


Food Is Symbolic of Love When Words are Inadequate

by ErikaWilliams



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale finally gets that picnic, Crack, Crowley never eats around Aziraphale, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, REPTILES, Rated For Mild Suggestive Content, taking a relationship to the next level
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErikaWilliams/pseuds/ErikaWilliams
Summary: For centuries, Crowley has found it impossible to eat when he's around Aziraphale.  Aziraphale won't let it rest until he's sure there's nothing wrong with Crowley.  Luckily he has a whole bookstore for research.





	Food Is Symbolic of Love When Words are Inadequate

Aziraphale had really outdone himself with this lunch. He had arranged everything, picked the location, supplied the food and the drinks. All Crowley had to do was show up and drive to where Aziraphale indicated. How could he have ever said no? It was a rather lovely afternoon, the sky only had a few puffy white clouds, the sun was warm on his skin and most people seemed to be giving them a wide berth. It was almost sickening how perfect it all was. Then again, Aziraphale had been wanting to go on this picnic for quite some time. Had probably been planning for the past forty years, ever since he had first suggested it.

Aziraphale had spread the blanket out on the grass at the top of the hill. He placed the picnic basket down and emptied the contents onto the blanket.

“What do you want me to do?” Crowley asked, feeling rather helpless about the whole situation.

“Just relax,” Aziraphale told him.

Crowley stretched out on the blanket and watched Aziraphale work. There were two wine glasses that he placed very carefully onto the blanket, which was followed by a bottle of Crowley’s favorite wine. Well, that looked promising at least. Aziraphale wasn’t done yet, and the wine was followed by some durable plates, some cloth tartan napkins. Some finger sandwiches, a bowl of mixed fruit, a separate bowl of grapes, deviled eggs, and just when he started to think there was no way Aziraphale could have fit anything more into that basket, he pulled out a decadent looking chocolate cake topped with various berries. It all looked delicious, and he didn’t want a single bite of it.

“All of this for just the two of us?” he asked, looking around to see if there was any one else he recognized. Most everyone else was too absorbed in their own companions to care about what they were doing.

“I’ll admit, I did get a little carried away,” Aziraphale said as he settled down on the blanket himself. Aziraphale opened the wine and poured a glass for each of them, handing one delicately to Crowley. “I just wanted everything to be perfect, and it was so much fun when I started making it that I didn’t want to stop.”

Perfect. So he had made all of this himself instead of miracling it up or having it delivered like a sensible angel. Made it all up the mortal way just for him.

“I thought you might get a kick out of the deviled eggs.”

“Clever,” he said before draining all his wine in a single gulp. “Can I get some more wine?” He extended his empty glass towards Aziraphale who obligingly filled it. He glanced over the food as the wine filled the glass. There had to be something there that he could at least nibble on. Maybe he could claim that he filled up on wine. He raised the glass back to his lips.

“Feel free to indulge in whatever you like,” Aziraphale said and Crowley nearly choked on his wine. Unfortunately, none of that food looked very appealing at the moment.

“I hope you didn’t go through any trouble on my account,” he said as he took a deviled egg and placed it carefully on his plate.

“For you, dear, it’s no trouble at all.” Aziraphale picked up one of the finger sandwiches and placed it on his own plate.

Now he had to deal with feelings of guilt as well as a complete lack of appetite. He didn’t understand, normally he could fake an interest in eating, had been doing it for centuries, but right now, on top of that hill, spread out on that blanket with Aziraphale practically beaming at him, the sun shining on them both, he couldn’t bring himself to eat a single bite. He stared over at Aziraphale and felt a completely different feeling coiling in his gut, one that he couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it was making eating physically impossible.

He stayed on his side, watching Aziraphale as he told him about some customer that was quite insistent on buying something Aziraphale didn’t want to part with. All the while he sipped on his wine, which Aziraphale attentively filled for him every time it emptied. A little too attentively. Aziraphale glanced at his untouched plate.

“So how did you get rid of them?” he asked, distracting Aziraphale back to his story. Why couldn’t he force himself to eat one single deviled egg? For Aziraphale? He downed the rest of his wine again. The bottle was empty, but Aziraphale pulled another one out of the picnic basket.

He had to be able to eat. He ate plenty of times before. Like back when Aziraphale had convinced him to try those oysters. He looked up at the clouds above them, searching for some inspiration.

“Something wrong with the meal, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked him, and he realized he had been spacing out.

“No,” he said enthusiastically, putting the wine glass down carefully on the blanket. “Everything about this afternoon has been perfect.” He struggled to sit up as he sought for something else to distract Aziraphale with.

“Really? Because you haven’t eaten a single bite.”

He could come up with a story, claim that he had eaten a big meal directly before he had come to pick him up. But Aziraphale had been anticipating this picnic for over fifty years by his count, and he couldn’t break his heart by lying like his feelings didn’t matter.

“’M just not hungry.” Technically he was never hungry. But right now food was the last thing he wanted to look at.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you eat,” Aziraphale said absentmindedly.

“I ate a bagel last week,” he protested. Really, he didn’t even need to eat, so it was nothing for them to be concerned over.

“Yes, but all these lunches, and I don’t think you’ve ever eaten anything.”

“I nibbled on the crepes.” He remembered that distinctly. He had two bites, looked over at Aziraphale and had just... stopped.

“Yes, and then I finished them for you.” Well, Aziraphale had been enjoying them so much, he didn’t want to take that pleasure away from him

“I ate the oysters.”

“That was two thousand years ago.”

“You do remember that we don’t need to eat.”

“Yes, well, I might start to take it personally.”

Not that. He enjoyed the lunches with Aziraphale, for the company and because Aziraphale so clearly enjoyed them. It was why he kept suggesting them even though once they were seated he never had an appetite. “Maybe it’s just a demon thing.”

Aziraphale suddenly lit up like he had been struck with inspiration. “Or maybe it’s a snake thing.”

“It’s not a snake thing,” he said, shaking his head in denial.

“I’m sure I have books on reptile care in the bookshop.” Aziraphale started to pack the things away back into the basket.

He didn’t want to interrupt their picnic just because occasionally he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything. This was supposed to be something Aziraphale wanted to do, so they shouldn’t ruin it just because his body didn’t want to cooperate. “I really don’t think it’s a snake thing.”

“Still, I think it’s worth looking in to,” Aziraphale said as he pushed himself to his feet. “On the off chance that there’s something wrong with you, we should take care of it swiftly.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, angel. We can’t get sick.” Besides, he didn’t feel off. It was more like a lack of feeling. Like he was so full of something else that there was no room for hunger. Not that he was sure what he was full of.

“You should control your body, not the other way around.” Aziraphale looked around them, almost as if he was looking for spies, or someone else to be watching them. “We can’t be too careful, Crowley.” He leaned over to pick up the picnic basket like he needed something to do with his hands. “If something were to happen to you now,” he paused and looked around them again “Well, we don’t know what will happen to you, but it probably won’t be good.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing Aziraphale’s free hand as he pulled himself to his feet. “Let’s see what your books have to say on the subject.” Aziraphale refused to let go of his hand, so he miracled the blanket into the back seat of the car as the made their way back. He only managed to reclaim his hand when they reached the car, and only then because they couldn’t get in otherwise. Aziraphale must have been worried about him since he didn’t make a single quip about his driving on the way to the bookshop. He must have thought this was very serious business.

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” Aziraphale told him once they were safely inside. The picnic basket was deposited just inside the door, and Aziraphale disappeared among the shelves. Crowley made his way to the back room and dropped down onto the sofa. All he could do now was wait until Aziraphale got whatever this was out of his system.

“Why don’t you just use the computer?” Crowley asked, eying up the ancient machine from across the room. It could probably access the internet if he told it to. “Might be faster.”

“You can’t believe everything you read on the internet, Crowley,” Aziraphale called from the other room.

“Can’t believe everything you read in books, either,” he muttered. He could use a drink. Or maybe that was the problem; he had been drinking so much that he could no longer eat. He was sure there were other things Aziraphale would rather be doing than fussing over him, like enjoying the rest of that nice picnic he had prepared for them.

“Here it is,” Aziraphale said, bringing a book in with him. “The Complete Guide to Caring For Your Reptile.”

“Not a reptile,” Crowley protested as Aziraphale sat down in his customary arm chair. Aziraphale gave him a look as he opened the book.

“Oh, look, there’s a whole chapter dedicated to why your snake isn’t eating.”

“This is demeaning.”

“No, demeaning would be taking you to a veterinarian.” Aziraphale shifted his attention away from him and to his book. He wouldn’t actually force him into snake form and take him to a vet, would he? Best not to risk it. “I doubt that you’re molting.” Aziraphale glanced over him again and at the sofa as if he was looking for loose pieces of skin. “We’re mostly certain that you can’t get sick.”

“Never been sick a day in my existence.”

“Well, there’s always...” Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide. “Oh...”

“Oh what?” He leaned forward on the sofa. He didn’t like the way Aziraphale was looking at him then looking back at the book as if he was trying to connect the dots. “What does it say?”

“And it’s only around me that you can’t eat?”

“Let me see the that book.” He reached forward to try to grab it but Aziraphale stubbornly closed it.

“You’re going to be fine, dear.”

He knew that voice. That was the doctor about to give his patient some bad news voice.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” He slouched back against the sofa. “It’s been nice knowing you. We had a good run, didn’t we? Six thousand years. Not everyone can say that. Try not to be too sad when I’m gone. You’ll find some other demon, some day. Maybe one that’s not subject to the ailments of a snake.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Aziraphale moved over to sit next to him on the sofa. At least he was going to try and comfort him in his dying hour. Aziraphale opened the book back up and passed it over to Crowley.

He took his sunglasses off and peered down at the book. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the small print, all the while Aziraphale sitting properly at his side.

_Some species of snake will fast before mating season._

He looked over at Aziraphale who was very pointedly not looking at him, then back at the book, then back at Aziraphale.

“I don’t have a mating season.”

“No, you only seem to lose your appetite around me.”

He stared at the book in his lap as if it could someone reveal to him why Aziraphale could no longer look at him. Then back at Aziraphale who was being very obstinate about providing an explanation. Then back at the book. So what if he lost his appetite every time he was around Aziraphale; it wasn’t like he was going to die from it. “Oh,” he said softly as the realization dawned on him. “Oh!” He shoved the book off his lap and unceremoniously onto the floor as if it were somehow to blame for his affliction.

“That book is for sale, you know,” Aziraphale said reprovingly as he leaned forward to pick the book up. He dusted the cover off before gently putting the book on the end table.

“Ssso...” He said, trying desperately to look at anything else in the room. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know what had been going on. He couldn’t ask Aziraphale for his opinion on this, it was too embarrassing. Even worse, he hadn’t even known and Aziraphale had to look it up in his reptile book. What did Aziraphale think of him now, unable to get control of his snake heritage long enough to nibble on something? He would probably never want to see him again. No more lunch dates. No more cozy evenings at the bookshop. No more Aziraphale.

“You know, it would be a shame to waste that food,” Aziraphale said from beside him.

“It would?” It would seem that Aziraphale had some idea for a cure for his affliction. Maybe some type of pheromone? Or maybe another book had some other type of cure?

“Yes, well, I did make that lunch for you to enjoy. It’s only fitting that you should.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

_Some time later…_

He placed another forkful of the chocolate cake in his mouth, aware that Aziraphale was watching him very carefully. The cake practically melted on his tongue, and he hummed in pleasure. He didn’t want it to end. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever eaten anything so good. No wonder Aziraphale frequently indulged in gourmet foods. He swallowed, savoring the aftertaste.

“This is sinfully decadent,” he told Aziraphale as he dug his fork back into the remainder of his generous slice of cake.

“I’m so glad you like it,” Aziraphale said with a shy smile. He reached over and placed his hand gently over Crowley’s free hand. Crowley turned his hand over so he could entwine their fingers. Aziraphale gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“How did you get the icing so fluffy?” he asked before devouring the next bite, licking the lingering crumbs off his lips.

“I used a little bit of divine intervention,” Aziraphale admitted, running his thumb along Crowley’s.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to stop eating again,” Crowley warned Aziraphale before diving back in for another piece. It may very well be the best thing he had eaten in his entire life.

“Then I’ll just have to help you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someone told me that some species of snakes fast when it's time for them to mate, and my mind went straight to Crowley never seeming to eat when he and Aziraphale are on their lunch dates.


End file.
